


Not Bad For A Tuesday

by SOMNlARl



Series: Tumblr Prompts [10]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Boys Kissing, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Hope that came through with just fluff, Humor, It's really implied but in my head this is a healthy relationship between all three of them, Justice really shouldn't help with the cooking though, M/M, More salt is not always a good thing, No seriously this is basically pure tooth-rotting fluff, OT3, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 16:09:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4311717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SOMNlARl/pseuds/SOMNlARl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Justice, NO. You don’t even eat, stop adding things!” There’s another loud crash, as though a pan has been slammed onto the hearth.</p><p>“That is far too much salt, Justice. Maker, the last body you inhabited was a corpse. Corpses wouldn’t know what actual food tastes like.”</p><p>There’s a distant rumbling, much like a lightning spell, that he can’t translate into words just yet; not until he takes a deep breath and catches the faint metallic twinge of lyrium twisting in the air. Justice. It’s always Justice now and Hawke summons a thread of mana, listening intently to catch whatever the spirit adds. </p><p> </p><p>  <i>“Humans require salt in order to live, as well as enjoy it. We must add more.”</i></p><p> </p><p>That <i>really</i> doesn’t sound good. Nor does the answering, aggrieved sigh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Bad For A Tuesday

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by krem-de-le-creme on tumblr; 
> 
>  
> 
> **Anders realizing Hawke had a bad day and tries to cook him dinner, fails horribly. Also, he and justice should fight about adjusting ingredients.**
> 
>  
> 
> As always, come hang out with me on tumblr: [xhermionedanger](http://xhermionedanger.tumblr.com)

It’s late, definitely more night than evening, when Hawke finally throws open the doors of the mansion, weight balanced on the blade of his staff. Anders looks over at the sudden interruption in alarm but when he sees no blood, only fatigue, he turns back to his stack of parchment. Justice urges him back to writing -  _He is uninjured, do not be distracted. We must continue our work_  - flaring lightly beneath Anders’ skin, tracing tendrils of blue like vines up his hands from the tips of his fingers.

“Thought you’d be at the clinic, love. I went there first but it was locked.” Garrett’s voice as he calls across the hallway is hoarse, like it always is when he’s been yelling and Anders feels a momentary pang of regret that he had declined to go with him. Hawke sounds tired, exhausted really; each heavy footstep drags across the floor, as though lifting each boot is simply too much effort. Justice pushes it back down and he keeps writing.

“Closed up a few hours ago,” Anders says. “It wasn’t too busy today, we must have finally got the latest plague sweeping through Darktown under control.”

“Aren’t you going to ask me how the Wounded Coast was?” Hawke whispers into his ear and Anders  _jumps_ , actually jumps out of his chair. When did Hawke get so close? He must be slipping, not to hear footsteps so close behind him.

“How was it, my heart?” Anders asks absentmindedly as he puts quill to paper again and scrawls another line.

Hawke laughs as he stumbles forward, bracing himself on the back of Anders’ chair.

“Oh, you know how it is. Pouring. Raiders. Slavers. Spiders everywhere. But all in all, not too bad for a Tuesday.”

At this Anders lays his quill down despite Justice’s faintly flaring protest, looks up at Garrett and chuckles, laying a hand lightly across his cheek.

“I should have come with you, love,” he says, stroking calloused fingertips against the man’s overgrown stubble.

Hawke melts into the touch, closing his eyes only to snap them open again with a sheepish expression as his stomach rumbles so loudly that Dog twitches awake from his place in front of the fire and growls.

“I’m hungry…” he whines, casting a hopeful look at Anders who rolls his eyes lightly.

“What about Orana?”

“It’s her night off…” He trails off and it’s silent for a few moments before Garrett sighs heavily and continues. “I guess I’ll just go down to the Hanged Man… Alone… Find something that might only give me a mild case of food poisoning…”

Anders stops writing, he never can resist Hawke’s whining. Justice stirs as he drops the quill but  _Yes, this IS important, this IS Justice. How can we leave our lover to suffer?_  and the spirit within him quiets, settles to nothing more than a light, flickering imprint under his skin.

“I’ll make you something, my love,” Anders whispers, pressing a kiss against Hawke’s chin before he walks off towards the kitchens.

***

Hawke hears a loud clanging which jerks him from sleep, the imprint of the edge of the table carved across his cheek.

Off in the kitchen Anders’ voice raises until it’s nearly shrill and Hawke thinks that’s probably not a good sign. Whatever Anders is making does smell wonderful though he realizes as a loud growl from his stomach brings him back to reality.

“Justice, NO. You don’t even eat, stop adding things!” There’s another loud crash, as though a pan has been slammed onto the hearth.

“That is far too much salt, Justice. Maker, the last body you inhabited was a corpse. Corpses wouldn’t know what actual food tastes like.”

There’s a distant rumbling, much like a lightning spell, that he can’t translate into words just yet; not until he takes a deep breath and catches the faint metallic twinge of lyrium twisting in the air.  _Justice_. It’s always Justice now and Hawke summons a thread of mana, listening intently to catch whatever the spirit adds.   


_“Humans require salt in order to live, as well as enjoy it. We must add more.”_

That  _really_  doesn’t sound good. Nor does the answering, aggrieved sigh.

“Anders?” He tries to no answer. “Love? Are you two alright in there?”

“We’re fine!” Anders says as Hawke heard a dull thud, rather like a tin of spices - quite possibly the aforementioned salt - hitting the floor. “Don’t come in!”

Hawke groans.  _That_  is definitely a bad sign. He rises with a sigh, bracing against the edge of the table and walks over towards the kitchen.

“Anders?” He calls and just as he walks across the threshold there’s a _whoosh_  and a high spark of flames from the hearth. “Shit!”

“I…” Anders stutters, staring at the fire rising higher with each passing second, wide-eyed. “Hawke…”

He pushes past Anders, priming winter’s grasp between his hands before releasing it onto the flames which sputter and flare before dying out.

“You alright, my love?” Garrett asks, stifling a cough as the smoke rises higher.

Anders smiles ruefully, raising a hand to rake through the strands of hair that have escaped his mussed ponytail. “I…  _we_  ruined your dinner, love.”

Hawke grins, taking the last few steps towards the blonde before pulling him into a soft, needy kiss.

“S’alright,” he mumbles around Anders’ lips. “Think I’d rather move on to dessert anyway.”


End file.
